


R for Revenge

by Iconoclast



Series: Cute boys gone wild [2]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Mentioned L Lawliet, POV Mello | Mihael Keehl, Past Character Death, Revenge, Suicidal Thoughts, Symbolism, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iconoclast/pseuds/Iconoclast
Summary: Remember, rememberThe fifth of November..L died three years ago, throwing Wammy's into chaos.Mello's dark thoughts about his own life while he's living alone in Los Angeles. A little character study with V for Vendetta refs.Rated M for graphic (underage) drug use





	R for Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick one-shot about Mello's fragile psyche to get back into writing.  
> I haven't written in idk, almost two monts, I needed something short to motivate myself.
> 
> Mello is without Matt here (but we all know he loves him desperately) but this isn't a pining fic but just something about Mello and his own life.
> 
> Headcanon of mine is that Mello is obsessed with dystopian / post apocalyptic / WW3 literature, one of his favourite books is nine-teen eighty-four.

**5 November 2007, Los Angeles**

 

 

Three years had passed since L’s death, and as usual, that day Mello couldn’t help himself but think about his life, his past and everything else. Mello entered a crowded club and showed his false ID, the doorman let him in. He wasn’t living in California since long, and as in the previous three years, he had always been on his own; just a lonely boy lost in this great big wide world. Mello had issues dealing with solitude but he hated most humans, so he preferred to suffer from loneliness. The blonde drained two shots of vodka and left again, to drag his miserable being in the small dark hole he called home. Or he pretended it to be his home.

 

It was not the first time Mello questioned his place in this world. Since he had left Wammy’s, especially. He had to think about it every year at 5 November, for what reason exactly, he didn’t know. L’s death had been and still was devastating for Mello. It would have been for the whole world probably, but nobody knew about it. The new L, the impostor... Mello would take him down. No matter what it would take him. It was the mission he forced himself to accomplish. Why, he didn’t know. Probably I’d make him finally feel of some use.

 

Mello entered the dark small flat, threw the keys somewhere and walked to the kitchen corner. He grabbed a bottle vodka from the freezer, filled a glass and looked out the window. The blonde lit up a cigarette, felt nicotine filling the air, smoke burning in his throat. His attention got caught by a movie poster on his wall.

 

5 November was a strange date anyway. When he arrived in England, he learned about a certain Guy and on 5 November there was the bizarre tradition to burn his effigy in a bonfire. Then he had read a book about a story where anarchists fight against a totalitarian system. Books like this were forbidden at Wammy’s, Mello understood only later why. Weren’t they in a miniature dictatorship too? They had no free will, no right to be individuals, their entire personality ripped out of them, the right to keep their own birth name denied. It seemed to be funny for a kid to choose its own name. But when Mello thought about it, thought that _Mihael Keehl_ didn’t exist anymore, it wasn’t funny anymore.

The day L died, Mello didn’t come to know about. He had been told a month later. Mello was angry, but why exactly was he angry? Did he really care that much for L, a person he had seen only once? Or was it because he was realising _their_ system was obsolete?

Wasn't that funny? It happened that exact day, as if destiny was making a bad joke. As if he was losing at dices against fate. But Mello knew fate didn’t exist, it was all God’s will. For a reason he was testing his faith. Fate… Faith… whatever.

 

Mello emptied the glass, he finally felt a little tipsy. The blonde took a small metal case from that cracked something that acted as his nightstand. He pulled out a tiny mirror and a razor blade from the small drawer; nights like these were unbearable, it was as if he couldn’t stand himself anymore.

 

Mello had always been a rebel at Wammy’s, but time had come to leave, leading him to make one wrong choice after another. It didn’t matter, because they were his choices, but still… he felt like in trap. Trapped in his own life, in a world where he could not find his place.

There were only few things he could find comfort in, one used to be chocolate but he slowly replaced it with alcohol and cocaine. When he started to use his body to get what he wanted and needed, chocolate wasn’t enough anymore. He needed something to forget and to numb his feelings. It disgusted him how weak he was. But he would get his revenge sooner or later; he had nothing to lose… almost nothing.

 

With the help of the small razor blade Mello formed a thin white line on the small mirror. From time to time he took a glimpse at his dull eyes. When was the last time he had been happy? He couldn't even remember how it felt like.

 

There were so many books where Mello sought refuge from reality, dystopian stories where humans had to suffer because they weren’t free. But was it so distant from reality?

After all he'd been though, Mello knew that the real dystopia wasn't in books or films, but it was the world he was living in. The world, where he had seen so many things he wished he hadn’t. Ironically, the things he feared the most were the ones he found himself always sticking into. But Mello wasn’t one to give up. Michael the Archangel was a warrior, and so was he. Nobody would ever break him; he’d rather die than giving up himself, his dreams, his ambitions.

 

Wrath. Wasn’t that something he’d always been accused to be guilty of? Wasn’t his fiery personality something _they_ had tried to eradicate from him? But his fury was also his strength, the fire that burned in him, his leading desire. Yes, Mello was aware he was a hopeless sinner, but what could he do? His fire burned so bright in him, because if it would not, he had killed himself long time ago.

Mello’s life hadn’t been easy, nor had he been loved except by two persons. But that wasn’t important, was it? What mattered to him, if his pride made him leave behind the only person he loved? He was such a disgusting worthless, miserable being. What mattered anyway?

 

Revenge. Probably his morbid thirst for revenge was the driving force in his life, his main motivation to survive in this world full of shit. But what exactly was he seeking revenge for? For L's death? For the horrible time at Wammy's? For his lost youth and innocence? For all the times people thought they had the right to use him like they pleased? There were many, so many reasons why Mello was seeking revenge, getting lost in a vicious, never-ending circle of self-destruction. But what Mello wanted the most, was getting revenge from who gave birth to him, forcing him to live a life he hadn’t asked for. Doomed to a fate he could only lose to.

 

Mello took the metal straw and snuffed the whole line of cocaine before drinking another glass of vodka. He let himself fall back on the floor, eyes directed towards the ceiling. He felt his heart beating fast in his chest, hot blood streaming through his veins. And if he would die to reach the top, if his death was the only way to win, he’d pay that price. No matter what it takes, he would be number one.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There was a drawing I wanted to add but my browser doesn't cooperate. 
> 
> It's on my tumblr and insta)


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